<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>If I Wasn't a Prince by acesandapricots</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29296755">If I Wasn't a Prince</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/acesandapricots/pseuds/acesandapricots'>acesandapricots</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>BDSM, Bondage, Bottom Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Top Merlin (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:49:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,015</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29296755</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/acesandapricots/pseuds/acesandapricots</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When he asked, Merlin would strip Arthur down to his core, piece by piece, layer by layer, inch by inch. Arthur would give himself over entirely - his ass, his cock, his lips, his strong bare chest and muscled arms - and Merlin would play his body like a fine instrument and make magic with the melody he spun.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>119</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>If I Wasn't a Prince</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Set in a timeline when Arthur is King, Gwen is Queen, and Merlin’s magic is known and accepted by both. I’ve implied here that Arthur and Gwen’s marriage is happy and open - which is my own preferred headcanon. You can imagine Merlin here is Court Sorcerer or he’s still Arthur’s manservant - either reading works.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Once Arthur became king, it was no longer only the responsibilities of captaincy and the physical safety of Camelot that lay at his feet. Before him was every decision, large and small, for the care and security of all his lands and people - of their lives and livelihoods, their comfort and their happiness. Even with Gwen by his side, advising and ruling, it was still Arthur’s crown. And he was determined to be, unlike his father, a just and kind king.</p><p>It was what he had been born to. It was what he had been raised to. It was a duty and an honor and a right. <em>His</em> duty, <em>his</em> honor, <em>his</em> right.</p><p>It was also, on occasion, entirely overwhelming. The fate of his kingdom and of his people resting on his shoulders, at his feet.</p><p>On those occasions, he turned, as he always had, to Merlin.</p><p>What he was too proud to ask for from the knights, what he could never quite achieve with Gwen, he could turn to Merlin to give him. Merlin, who over the years had seen him brought low, humbled, humiliated, beaten and challenged and weak as well as strong - and who still showed Arthur loyalty, still showed him faith, still showed him trust. </p><p>Arthur did his best to earn that trust. And he bestowed it upon Merlin, in turn.</p><p>And when he asked, Merlin would strip Arthur down to his core, piece by piece, layer by layer, inch by inch. Arthur would give himself over entirely - his ass, his cock, his lips, his strong bare chest and muscled arms - and Merlin would play his body like a fine instrument and make magic with the melody he spun.</p><p>For what Merlin could give that the others couldn’t, what Arthur desperately needed from his friend and lover and confidant, was to take away Arthur’s control, his responsibility, his need and right and duty to make all the decisions. There was no kingship, no captaincy, no command that Arthur had to inhabit when he was in Merlin’s bed. Merlin would tie Arthur up and fuck him - sometimes roughly, sometimes reverently, but always in the lead, always in control, always deciding when to give Arthur his pleasure and when to take his own.</p><p>The loss of control was an illusion, of course. They played safely, steering far away from the terrors that could send Arthur spiralling into bad memories. There would be no glint of steel, no loss of speech, no drugs or danger between them. And when Merlin used his magic, Arthur needed to still have his sight, to see the glow in the sorcerer’s eyes, to know that this enchantment was one that could be trusted, could be witnessed, that there would be no spell to change his thoughts or erase his memories. That it was Merlin, always and uniquely Merlin, to whom he could give in.</p><p>Sometimes Merlin would pin Arthur to a pillar and kiss him senseless, his rough palm hot on Arthur’s cock and his clothed body pressed flush against bare flesh.</p><p>Sometimes he would truss Arthur up like a holiday goose, limbs tightly tucked together with strong muscles straining against fraying rope, and milk his cock until the cold flagstones were coated in white.</p><p>Sometimes he would tie Arthur face-down on the bed and rut into him until Arthur came just from the friction of his cock against the bedsheets.</p><p>Sometimes he would lock the doors and bind Arthur to his throne and draw his cock out of his breeches and swallow it down his throat.</p><p>Sometimes he would enchant feathers, sending them dancing over every exposed inch of Arthur’s skin before they would turn to lightly stroking his cock and teasing his hole.</p><p>Sometimes he would retrieve chains from the dungeon and shackle Arthur to the bedposts or to a chair or to a table. He would step back and undress Arthur with his magic, leaving his tunic loose around his shoulders and his breeches bunched at his ankles. Then he would merely watch as Arthur hardened under his gaze, drinking in his fill, until he finally decided it was time to touch.</p><p>On rare occasions, Merlin would conjure some stocks or a rack and play-act a punishment of his king, torturing Arthur’s naked flesh with pleasure and always ending just shy of pain.</p><p>But usually their joining was more simple. Merlin would bind Arthur’s hands high above his head with soft, silky rope. Then he would hold Arthur close and work him open with his tongue, his fingers, his lips, lapping at tense muscles until they softened to his touch and stroking along Arthur’s intimate length until he was squirming, panting, moaning. He’d slick his fingers with oil and reach inside Arthur with one finger, then two, then three, a callused palm holding down his hips and his talented hand playing with muscle and nerves. Merlin would tease him, open him, bring him closer and closer and closer before drawing gently away and then beginning again. And then he would slick himself up and push deep into Arthur, reaching a point inside that no one else could touch. And as Merlin would rock back and forth, filling Arthur with heat and weight and light, his hands warm and strong against the skin of Arthur’s body and his bright blue eyes glowing not with magic but with love, Arthur would shatter apart into starlight and glass, his body molten with pleasure and his vision streaked through with white and gold. And as he would come down from his flight, his mind gathering up its scattered pieces, it would be Merlin - Merlin’s touch, Merlin’s cock, Merlin’s care - that would make him whole again.</p><p>And when the weight of his crown sat too heavy on his head, Arthur would turn to face his best friend and lover, and he would know that there was at least one person in Camelot who didn’t need Arthur to always be the strong one.</p><p>For Merlin, Arthur could just be Arthur.</p><p>And Camelot was the stronger, the richer, the wiser for it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>My everlasting thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitmans_kiss/">whitmans_kiss</a> for beta reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>